Making Progress in Ethics
from Jamie Carlin Watson, What’s Good on TV? Learning Ethics through Television (New
York: Wiley Blackwell, forthcoming).
1. Ethical Reasoning
The primary way to make progress in ethics is by reasoning about moral claims, that is, by
constructing and evaluating arguments. Some people get nervous around the word “argument”
because it brings to mind a heated emotional exchange, usually angry. Or it makes people think
of mere disagreement, one person simply contradicting another. An old British television show
called Monty Python’s Flying Circus parodied this perception of an argument in a sketch called
“The Argument Clinic,” where a customer attempts to pay someone to have an argument with
him:
CUSTOMER (C): Ah, is this the right room for an argument?
ARGUER (A): I told you once.
C: No you haven’t.
A: Yes I have.
C: When?
A: Just now.
C: No you didn’t.
A: Yes I did.
…
C: You did not.
A: Yes I did.
C: Did not.
A: Yes I did.
C: Didn’t.
A: Yes I did.
…
C: Look, this isn’t an argument.
A: Yes it is.
C: No it isn’t. It’s just contradiction.
A: No it isn’t.
C: Yes it is.
…
C: All of this is futile
A: No it isn’t.
C: I came here for a good argument.
A: No you didn’t; you came here for an argument.
C: Well an argument’s not the same as contradiction.
A: It can be.
C: No it can’t. An argument is a connected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.
A: No it isn’t.
C: Yes it is. It is isn’t just contradiction.
A: Look, if I argue with you I must take up a contradictory position.
C: But it isn’t just saying “no it isn’t”
A: Yes it is.
…
In this sketch, the arguer thinks of arguments in terms of “contradiction,” whereas the
customer thinks of arguments the way philosophers think of arguments: reasons for thinking a
claim is true. So, for our purposes:
An argument is one or more claims (called premises) intended
to support the truth of another claim (called the conclusion).
We’ve noted that a moral claim is a declarative statement about some moral feature of reality
that is either true or false. A claim in general is simply a declarative statement about any feature
of reality that is either true or false, for instance: the barn is red; the field is grassy; the speed of
light is 299,792,458 m/s.
In an argument, one or more claims (moral or otherwise) is being used as evidence for the
truth of another claim. For instance, let’s say someone made the claim that: “Abortion on
demand is wrong.” As a critical thinker, you would want some reasons for thinking this is true. A
classic argument for this claim looks like this:
1. A fetus has a right to life.
2. A person’s right to life is stronger than a woman’s right to
decide what happens in and to her body.
3. Therefore, a fetus may not be killed on the grounds that a
woman has decided she does not want the fetus.
(1) and (2) are claims providing support for (3), which says that abortion because a woman
decides she does not want a fetus (essentially: abortion on demand) is wrong.
In order to evaluate this argument, we need to know what makes an argument good or
bad (note: arguments are not true or false; only claims are true or false). In a good argument (i)
the conclusion follows from the premises and (ii) the premises are true. A conclusion follows
from the premises in one of two ways, either (a) if the premises were true, the conclusion could
not be false (note: not that they actually are true, but, if they were—subjunctive mood), or (b) if
the premises were true, the conclusion would be more likely than not. If an argument meets
condition (i) because of (a), the argument is valid. If an argument meets condition (i) because of
(b), the argument is strong.
An argument that is only valid or strong is not yet a good argument. We also need to
know that the premises are true. If an argument is valid and has true premises, it is a sound
argument. If an argument is strong and has true premises, it is a cogent argument. If either (i) or
(ii) is not met or if neither are met, the argument is not good. If both (i) and (ii) are met, the
argument is good.
Now, consider once again our argument against abortion. The conclusion follows from
the premises in a way that, if the premises were true, the conclusion would have to be true, so it
is a valid argument. Therefore, to determine whether it is a good argument, we need reasons for
thinking the premises are true. For instance, why think premise (1) is true? Here’s an example of
an argument:
4. A fetus is a person.
5. All persons have a right to life.
1. Therefore, a fetus has a right to life.
Here we have another valid argument for the claim that a fetus has a right to life. We’re making
progress, but to know whether we have good reasons to believe (3), we still need to know
whether (2) is true and whether premises (4) and (5) of the new argument are true. This can be a
long process, but this is how arguments work, whether they are moral arguments, scientific
arguments, metaphysical arguments, religious arguments, etc.
2. Four Ways of Evaluating Moral Arguments
In order to evaluate an argument, we need only to check to see whether it meets both conditions
(i) and (ii) above. Of course, some arguments are very complicated and it is often difficult to see
clearly whether both conditions are met. To help with this process, philosophers have discovered
a handful of principles to help us evaluate moral claims and arguments.
a. The Principle of Charity
In season 1 of 30 Rock, Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) tells Liz Lemon (Tina Fey), “The
Italians have a saying, Lemon. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ And although
they’ve never won a war or mass-produced a decent car, in this area, they are correct” (“Blind
Date”). Evidently Donaghy forgot the small matter of the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, we also
think the Italians are correct (well, Mario Puzo anyway) because this saying highlights an
important principle of reasoning, called the “principle of charity.” Don’t be deceived by its
wimpy-sounding name; it will do more work for you than most other principles. It will keep you
focused on the important parts of an argument.
The principle of charity directs us to be “charitable” to those who argue against our
claims by presenting their arguments in the strongest way possible; it directs us to present their
case in the best light. The idea is that, since we’re after truth and not simply out to win an
argument, it does not matter whether someone’s original argument is weak or faulty, as long as a
stronger argument in favor of their claim is available. An argument is good or bad independently
of who offers it. Therefore, if we take the process of argumentation seriously, we are welladvised to adhere to the principle of charity.
The principle has two dimensions: first, it allows us to determine whether our own claims
are plausibly true (if the strongest argument against one of my beliefs is flawless, then I have a
reason to change my belief), and second, it allows us to show, in the clearest and most objective
manner, the flaws in our opponents’ arguments.
It is probably clear to you that, for any belief you hold, there is a chance that that belief is
false. In some cases, the chance you are wrong is incredibly small, for instance, a belief like
2+2=4. Nonetheless, you must allow that a really intelligent mathematician could offer a proof
showing that, however useful it is to believe 2+2=4, it is not, strictly speaking, true. In most
cases, on the other hand, the chances of being wrong are much greater: I won’t die on this
airplane, I won’t get the flu this year; it’s going to rain tomorrow; the universe is strictly guided
by the second law of thermodynamics, etc.
A realistic perspective on our chances of being wrong should encourage us to take
arguments against our beliefs all the more seriously. 19th century philosopher John Stuart Mill
explains:
He who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that. His reasons may be good, and no
one may have been able to refute them. But if he is equally unable to refute the reasons on the
opposite side; if he does not so much as know what they are, he has no ground for preferring either
opinion. The rational position for him would be suspension of judgment… (On Liberty, chapter 2).
The idea here is that, to believe securely, or to be justified in our beliefs to at least some degree,
we are well-advised to seek out the opposition. Perhaps they are right and we are wrong. But we
cannot determine which if we have not at least considered the best available evidence for the
opposing claim.
The second dimension of the principle of charity assumes that, just as we could be wrong
about our beliefs, so could our opponents. In order to show convincingly that an opponent’s
claim is implausible, an arguer must show both that the opponent’s actual argument is faulty in
some way, and that any similar or stronger argument for the same claim is faulty.
A variety of fallacies follow from not taking this second dimension seriously. If someone
does not take an opponent’s argument seriously, she may reformulate it in a way that does not
accurately express the opponent’s reasons. If her formulation does not accurately represent her
opponent’s argument, she is committing the “straw man” fallacy, which involves presenting an
over-simplified or absurd version of an opponent’s argument in order to make it easier to
convince others to reject it. Similarly, if an arguer does not take an opponent’s argument
seriously, he may focus on an unimportant aspect of the argument or (intentionally or
unintentionally) change the subject altogether. If he does, he is committing the “red herring”
fallacy, leading his audience to ignore the force of the original argument. These fallacies, and
others that tend to result from not taking the principle of charity seriously, show an arguer’s
laziness or incompetence rather than that his opponent’s claims are implausible.
b. “Ought implies Can” (though Can doesn’t imply Ought)
Can you be held responsible for an act that you cannot possibly perform? Could you be
morally obligated to jump over a building or run faster than a car? Could you be held morally
responsible for breathing? It seems odd to think so. The principle of “ought implies can,” often
attributed to Immanuel Kant, means that, if there is some action you cannot possibly perform, we
have a reason to believe you are not morally obligated to perform that act. For instance, a person
cannot change skin color, so they cannot be morally responsible for being a certain race. This
goes for a number of features of human psychology that have been the object of moral scorn
throughout the ages. For instance, someone who has a genetic disposition toward being attracted
to members of the opposite sex or the same sex, or toward alcoholism, or toward pedophilia, or
kleptomania, according to this principle, cannot be held morally responsible for having those
dispositions. This is because he has no choice with respect to having them. Of course, we do
think he has a choice with respect to acting on them. We want the genetic alcoholic to refrain
from drinking and the pedophile to refrain from performing acts of pedophilia and both of these
are moral concerns.
This principle is important because it helps us distinguish which aspects of certain
behaviors are morally salient and can be used in counterexamples to any claim or argument that
suggests that we are morally obligated to do something we cannot do. We just distinguished the
genetic origins of an action from the performance of an action. Similarly, we can distinguish
responsibility for an action at a time from responsibility for a previous action. For instance, at the
moment a drunk driver hits a pedestrian he could not have done otherwise, but he made a moral
decision that led to this event by getting in the car drunk. Similarly, someone who takes out a
loan who knowingly cannot pay it back makes a moral decision to defraud the lender.
This principle is controversial among philosophers primarily because there seem to be
some obvious counterexamples. If I borrow money, then accidentally spend all my money or,
through no fault of my own, lose all my money along with the ability to make money, the
principle seems to suggest that I cannot be held morally responsible, since, in fact, I cannot pay
back the loan. This, of course, would not be good for banks.
A standard response to this sort of case is that, if I have simply lost all my money, then,
since I still have the capacity to make money, I am obligated to pay it back. If, however, I have
agreed to pay it back on a certain day and just happen to have no money on that day, it seems the
lender is right in holding me responsible for not doing so, even if I would have the money on the
following day. And the same problem applies if I have lost the ability to pay it back (for instance,
if I have lost my job).
Note also, we could not solve this problem by pointing out that I made a promise in good
faith that I would be able to pay it back. This is because now the action that I am unable to
perform is keeping my promise. Yet, it still seems as if I am morally responsible for not making
good on my word even if I cannot.
Nevertheless, the proponent of the principle may respond that, in cases where I am not
morally responsible for either not being able to pay or not keeping my promise, the moral
obligation to pay is lifted until I am able to pay it back. This response is plausible for two
reasons: (a) it does not absolve the borrower of the debt, it simply acknowledges that the
obligation cannot apply in cases where it is physically impossible for the borrower to repay. Note
that this only holds if the borrower is not in this position because of negligence. If his actions
caused his bankruptcy, he remains responsible for the debt just as the drunk remains responsible
for any unintentional actions that occur as a result of his drunkenness. And (b) it does not leave it
open that the borrower can remain destitute in order to avoid the debt; the moment he can take
advantage of an opportunity toward repayment of the debt, he is once again responsible for the
debt.
Interestingly, the bankruptcy laws in the United States reflect this implication of the
principle. A lender may take action against a delinquent lender up to and unless the borrower can
prove that he is physically unable to repay due to reasons outside his control. Under these
circumstances a borrower may file for bankruptcy and receive legal protection against his
creditors. Therefore, we conclude that the principle of “ought implies can” is a plausible
restriction on moral obligations. These laws fall short, however, after the period of bankruptcy is
over, when the debt is regarded as forgiven.
Before concluding this section, it is important to point out that the converse of the
principle, “can implies ought,” does not hold. The counterexamples here are obvious, but they
are worth noting given some advancements in medical science. Though we can drop atomic
bombs on our enemies, have sex with multiple random partners, take hallucinogenic drugs, eat
pie for 24 hours straight, stand on baby kittens, or harvest organs from perfectly healthy people
against their will doesn’t mean we ought to do so. In each of these cases, important moral
questions must be answered before we are justified in believing they are permissible or
impermissible. Interestingly, some argue that certain advancements in medical science, for
instance, the harvesting of stem cells from fertilized embryos, is morally permissible simply
because we can do it. Given the above examples, this is an insufficient justification.
To be sure, the most common argument for harvesting stem cells is the great good that it
might do, and that this good outweighs any moral value attaching to a fertilized embryo. This
might be right and it is not a “can implies ought” argument. It more closely resembles a principle
known as “the end justifies the means.” We will discuss this principle in the chapter on
Utilitarianism, but it faces problems similar to those of “can implies ought,” for instance,
harvesting organs from perfectly healthy people against their will might result in more healthy
people overall. But in this latter case, the means do not seem to justify the ends.
c. Counterexample
A useful tool for testing a claim or argument is called a counterexample. A
counterexample is an example used to show either that a claim is false or that an argument is
not good. A counterexample to a claim is an argument showing that a mutually exclusive claim
is true. Two claims are mutually exclusive if they cannot both be true at the same time, for
instance, “the barn is red right now” and “the barn is blue right now”; “Michael Bluth has no
sisters” and “Lindsay Fünke is Michael Bluth’s sister.” Therefore, if there is a better argument
for the latter claim than the former, we have reason to believe the former is not true. Here’s an
example from ethics:
Argument 1:
1) Intentional killing is wrong.
2) Abortion is an intentional killing.
3) Therefore, abortion is wrong.
Counterexample to premise (1):
4) It is not morally wrong to kill a mosquito.
5) Killing a mosquito is an intentional killing.
6) Therefore, some intentional killings are morally permissible.
This counterexample highlights the inconsistency between the claims “Intentional killing is
wrong” and “some intentional killings are morally permissible”; both cannot be true. Since most
people have good reasons to believe there is no moral harm in killing a mosquito, premise (1) is
much too strong, and therefore, we have a reason to reject it. If an argument could be made for
protecting mosquitoes from intentional killings (that is, an argument that premise 4 is false), this
counterexample would not work.
Note: There would also be no problem if premise (1) read, “Intentional killing is often
wrong,” or “Intentional killing is sometimes wrong.” But if the arguer defended that as a premise,
the conclusion would also change. Now the conclusion would be, “Abortion is often wrong” or
“Abortion is sometimes wrong.” But almost everyone could agree with the latter and many with
the former, so there would be little need for argument. The whole point is to determine the
circumstances under which abortion is morally permissible and impermissible. This requires
precise principles that help determine, for any particular pregnancy, if or when abortion is
permissible.
Using the same example, consider a counterexample to an argument:
Argument 1:
1) Intentional killing is wrong.
2) Abortion is an intentional killing.
3) Therefore, abortion is wrong.
Counterexample to argument 1:
1) Intentional killing is wrong.
7) Killing bacteria with antibiotics is an intentional killing.
8) Therefore, taking antibiotics is wrong.
9) But we have good reasons to believe it is not wrong to kill bacteria.
10) Therefore, there might be reasons for thinking intentional killing is
not wrong in the case of abortion.
In this case, the counterexample shows that inserting a different action into premise 2 yields an
unfortunate conclusion, namely, that we are never morally permitted to take antibiotics. But if
these premises do not justify the claim that taking antibiotics is wrong, they do not justify the
claim that abortion is wrong.
One problem with Argument 1 is made obvious by the counterexample. In the
counterexample, premise 1 leads to an absurd conclusion (taking antibiotics is wrong), therefore
premise 1 is likely false. Therefore, we should conclude that premise 1 is likely false in
Argument 1. There are two at least two ways to show that premise 1 is false: (i) argue directly
that it is false (that is, offer a counterexample to a claim), or (ii) argue that substituting a different
action in the same circumstances leads to an undesirable conclusion (offer a counterexample to
an argument).
There are dozens of ways to offer direct arguments against a claim. These involve simply
offering a set of premises in support of the conclusion that the claim is false. For instance, if we
wanted to construct a direct argument that premise 1 of Argument 1 is false, we might offer an
argument like the following:
Argument 1:
1) Intentional killing is wrong.
2) Abortion is an intentional killing.
3) Therefore, abortion is wrong.
Counterexample to Premise 1 of Argument 1:
11) If intentional killing is always wrong, then life is essentially
morally valuable.
12) Life is not essentially morally valuable.
13) Therefore, intentional killing is not always wrong.
Additional reasons might be required to support the truth of premise 2, but if these premises are
true, we have direct reasons for believing that the claim “intentional killing is (always) wrong” is
false.
There are two general types of counterexample to an argument, one of which is called
The Technique of Variant Cases. In this type, an argument is constructed that has all the same
elements as the argument under consideration except the act in question. So, the above
Counterexample to Argument 1 is Variant Case Counterexample; we just substituted “killing
bacteria” for “abortion” to show that the conclusion does not follow from the premises. If
someone could offer good reasons for thinking that taking antibiotics is morally impermissible or
that taking antibiotics is not a case of intentional killing, this counterexample would not work.
The second general type of counterexample to an argument is called a Bare Difference
Argument. In this type of counterexample, an argument is constructed that has none of the same
elements as the argument under consideration except the act in question. Consider, one last time,
argument 1:
Argument 1:
1) Intentional killing is wrong.
2) Abortion is an intentional killing.
3) Therefore, abortion is wrong.
Bare Difference Counterexample to Argument 1:
11) Killing in self-defense is not always wrong.
12) Abortion when the mother’s life is threatened is killing in selfdefense.
13) Therefore, abortion is not always wrong.
In this case, we have changed the circumstances, now we are not simply considering killing, we
are considering cases of self-defense. In light of common views about self-defense, some cases
of abortion are morally permissible. Therefore, we have provided reasons for doubting the
conclusion of argument 1. If someone could show that killing in self-defense is always wrong or
that we never need to perform abortions in defense of a mother (for instance, perhaps a doctor
could always perform a Caesarian), then this counterexample would not work.
Keep these techniques in mind as you evaluate and construct moral arguments. They will
help you discover the strengths and weaknesses of arguments. And understanding these strengths
and weaknesses will help you construct arguments with more strengths than weaknesses and
therefore, to make real moral progress.
d. The Principle of Caution
Moral claims, if any are true, contribute to society in important ways. They help us
express and explain why certain actions should not be performed, such as rape and murder, and
they help encourage us to perform other actions, such as actions that are charitable and selfsacrificial. Ethical problems are often, as ethicist Tom Regan named one of his books, Matters of
Life and Death. But in some cases, there doesn’t seem to be enough evidence to make an
informed judgment about the truth of a moral claim.
For instance, in the animal rights debate, it is not clear to many what it would mean for an
animal to have moral “rights,” or even moral value, independently of their relationship to
humans. (What are “rights” anyway?) Animals fight, kill, and eat one another, and there seems to
be nothing good or bad, moral or immoral, about any of it—at least no more than a volcano
erupting 2,000 years before humans walked the earth. But just because it is difficult determine
whether animals have rights, since they might and since rights are morally significant, it seems
we would be well-advised to proceed with caution with respect to how we treat animals.
For instance, James Rachels (2004) writes, “…there is no general answer to the question
of how chimps may be treated. There are only the various ways of treating them and the various
considerations that count for and against those treatments.” Similarly, there is very little
consensus (and very little evidence to go on) about what conditions constitute “personhood,”
“welfare,” or “happiness,” or under what conditions it might be morally permissible to steal from
the greedy, lying owners of a record label by illegally downloading their productions.
Nevertheless, we don’t want to be murderers or thieves or cruel (at least we hope you
don’t want to be those things). Therefore, with respect to ethical claims and arguments, it is
advisable to err on the side of caution. Just as we would not want anyone in our contemporary
society to say, “Well, the reasons given for and against the claim that Hispanics have the same
rights as Caucasians sort of cancel one another out, therefore, I am not rationally obligated to
believe they have the same rights,” we must also be careful with broad statements like, “Well,
the reasons given for and against the claim that animals have rights are inconclusive, therefore I
am not rationally obligated to treat them as if they do,” or “The argument that an 8-week-old
fetus is a person and has a right to life is seriously flawed, so I can treat my fetus however I
want.” It is true that if the reasons are really inconclusive, there is no rational obligation either
way. But the principle of caution is not, strictly speaking, a rational principle; it is a pragmatic
and moral principle. It may be that animals do not have rights and it may be that an 8-week-old
fetus is no more morally significant than my fingernail, but the consequences of being wrong are
very high. Therefore, a prudent reasoner will evaluate moral claims carefully and believe
cautiously.
3. Six Common Fallacies in Ethical Reasoning
A fallacy is an error in reasoning. A fallacious argument seems good, but something has gone
wrong. Either the premises only appear to support the conclusion or the premises only appear
true. We briefly explain six common fallacies.
1. argumentum ad populum (appeal to the people)
What if everyone suddenly came to believe that Special Relativity is false or that God
does not exist? Would everyone’s believing these things make them true? Of course not. They
are true or false independently of what anyone believes. Since someone’s belief about a claim
does not make it true or false, you will need a different sort of evidence to make a good judgment
about its truth or falsity. If someone attempts to convince you to believe something or to do
something on the grounds that large numbers of people believe it or do it, that person is
committing a fallacy called ad populum, or appeal to the people.
This fallacy is common in popular culture: everyone believes the world is flat; everyone
believes that premarital sex is morally permissible; everyone believes that driving after nine PM
is morally permissible; no one thinks you should drink and drive, and so on. In each of these
cases, the highlighted claim might be true or false. But the fact that everyone believes it or no
one believes it does not constitute sufficient ground for believing it. Everyone could be wrong!
You’re mother even recognized these arguments as fallacious: “If all your friends jumped off a
bridge, would you do that, too?”
Perhaps you have been tempted to think that a politician is doing a bad job because
everyone else thinks he or she is doing a bad job. Or maybe you have been persuaded to believe
there are objective moral facts, like “murder is always wrong,” on the grounds that every culture
in history has agreed on at least a few basic moral principles. There is a chance you have
considered ingesting certain illegal substances since “everyone has tried it” (and, heaven forbid
you miss out). And you have probably even been tempted to buy something just because it is the
“best selling x in America,” or “Mothers have been giving it to their children for thirty years.”
All of these arguments commit the ad populum fallacy. Make sure you recognize that, in
each case, the conclusion—“I should believe x,” or “I should do x”—may be true or false. There
may really be objective moral facts. Some politicians really do a bad job. But evidence that
“everyone believes x” or that “everyone does x” cannot help you make an informed decision
about whether x is true.
Here are four more appeals to the people:
EXAMPLES:
a. PenguinTears Shampoo—used by more salons than any other all-natural shampoo
b. Reading—everybody’s doing it! (This is from a real commercial on PBS during a block of children’s
programming.)
c. “The majority of congressmen, including members from both parties, believe that Iran is a threat to the
United States. Therefore, we should probably go ahead with the invasion.”
d. “Everyone on the board believes that the superintendent’s policies are biased against male teachers.
Therefore, we should not reelect her.”
2. argumentum ad misericordium (appeal to pity/emotion)
Is it right that you help starving kids in Ethiopia? Probably. Should you believe this
because a television commercial with Sally Struthers makes you feel bad? Absolutely not. Your
emotions have nothing to do with the truth of a claim. Just because you feel you deserve a new
car for graduating, this does not place any moral obligation on your parents to buy you one. Just
because you feel bad for criminals serving life in prison doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be there.
Just because you don’t like to go the speed limit doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. These arguments
are fallacious because their premises are irrelevant to the truth of the conclusion. The conclusion
might be true or false, but emotions cannot tell you which.
If someone tries to convince you that a claim is true by appealing to emotions, especially
negative emotions like pity, she is committing the fallacy, ad misericordiam, or appeal to pity.
Appeals to pity show up in less conspicuous ways than in the starving kids commercials.
Sometimes you can find talk shows where “noted” psychologists try to convince you and the
audience that people who have committed horrible atrocities are not really bad at heart, they
have just had a difficult childhood or poor role models. They try to convince you to feel sorry for
them and to believe they should not be held to the same moral standards as those of us who did
not share their experiences.
There is no doubt that, in some cases, a person’s circumstances might mitigate blame or
praise. For instance, if someone had a really awful childhood, we tend to consider her more
praiseworthy if she becomes a productive and charitable member of society than someone who
had a loving and encouraging childhood. Alternatively, we tend to regard someone who had a
loving and encouraging childhood as more morally blameworthy if he becomes miserly and
bitter—surely he knew better. But, these arguments are not appeals to emotion; they are appeals
to psychological obstacles, or lack thereof, that help us sort out the extent of social or political
punishment for immoral acts. There is no question as to whether the acts are immoral, even on
the part of the psychologist offering the evidence; the arguer wants you to believe that the same
moral standard does not apply because the victim’s story is so tragic. This is an appeal to pity.
Here are four more appeals to pity:
EXAMPLES:
a. “You’ll say what I need you to, right? You wouldn’t want us to lose our land!”
b. Student: Please re-think my grade.
Professor: But you did not answer the question.
Student: My mom will kill me if I flunk History.
c. “Don’t fire Jack, even if he is incompetent. He has a huge family to provide for.”
d. “If I don’t get this promotion my husband will leave me!”
3. petitio principii (begging the question; circular reasoning)
If you listen closely, you will hear many people use the phrase, “that begs the question.”
But few use this phrase the way philosophers and logicians do. This is because the phrase has
come to have two uses in the English language. One is rhetorical and the other is logical. The
rhetorical use is the one you’re probably most familiar with. The rhetorical use means to raise a
question, to make a question obvious, or to make a question relevant. The other use is logical,
and it means: in an argument, to assume in the premises something you are attempting to prove
in the conclusion; it is also called a circular argument. The logical use is the phrase’s original
meaning, but clever journalists have co-opted it for rhetorical purposes, and now it is standard to
accept its rhetorical use. We, however, will only ever employ the term in its logical use—to
mean a circular argument.
A circular argument is an argument that includes the conclusion in the premises. For
example:
1) It is raining outside.
2) If it is raining outside, my car is wet.
3) Therefore, it is raining outside.
In this argument, the conclusion is already assumed in the premises. The arguer assumes that it is
raining outside in order to prove that it is raining outside. Now, you might wonder: why in the
world would anyone construct such a foolish argument? It’s actually much easier to commit this
fallacy than you might think. Consider the following, more subtle version:
1) The Bible says God exists.
2) The Bible is true because God wrote it.
3) Therefore, God exists.
In this argument, God’s existence is assumed in premise (2). God could not have written the
Bible if he did not exist to write it. But the whole point is to prove that God exists! The next
example is even subtler:
1) Murder is morally wrong.
2) Abortion is murder.
3) Therefore, abortion is morally wrong.
Why is this fallacious? It is not explicitly, but implicitly, since almost everyone accepts that
murder is morally wrong, premise (2) is really the claim that requires evidence. If we already
thought premise (2) was true, we wouldn’t be having the abortion debate in the first place. So,
since the term “murder” means “immoral killing,” then we are assuming in the premises what we
are trying to prove in the conclusion. Therefore, be careful not to beg the question in your own
arguments, and watch that someone does not slip something by you by begging the question.
Here are four more circular arguments:
EXAMPLES:
a. “I believe Professor Williams that X. Look; it’s even in his textbook on p. 322!”
b. “Of course the government should provide health care. The government is supposed to protect our
rights and heath care is a basic human right.”
c. “Cheating violates academic integrity. Therefore, it is wrong to cheat.”
d. “It is wrong to assign grades according to relative student performance. But grading on a curve does
just that! Therefore, grading on a curve is immoral.”
4. Appeal to Inappropriate Authority
People love to tell you that there is some scientific evidence behind their claims.
Advertisements for shampoo, weight-loss supplements, cars, and pain killers all cite some form
of “research” that supports some claim about their product. One commercial for a diet pill
actually had a piece of paper in the background with the words, “Journal of Research,” written in
bold at the top while the announcer explained the “amazing results!” Just after the terrorist
bombings in London in 2005, a CBN (Christian Broadcasting Network) News anchor
interviewed a guest, whom they labeled, “Terrorism Expert,” to explain just how serious the
attacks were. Political pundit Glenn Beck said repeatedly, over the span of half an hour, that
evidence for global warming is “false science.”
What do all these sources of evidence have in common? They are not authorities on the
claim in question. The “Journal of Research” does not exist, so it can’t be an authority, and even
if a journal with this name existed, it’s not clear why it is a relevant authority on diet pills. It
could be dedicated to agriculture or horticulture or veterinary medicine—who knows? Similarly,
what is a “terrorism expert” and what college grants a degree in this field? Would a radical
Islamic suicide bomber count as a “terrorism expert”? Pasting these words under someone’s
name does not establish his authority to inform a lay audience about terrorism. And finally,
Glenn Beck is not a scientist, he did not interview scientists, he did not read scientific research
on the air, he cited no independent source whatsoever—he simply authoritatively pronounced
that a claim (made by scientists) is false.
To be clear, the diet pill may work, the terrorism expert may be legitimate, and global
warming may, in fact, be a liberal myth. The problem is that you, as a critical thinker, have not
been given appropriate evidence to think any of these claims are true. All three examples
commit the fallacy of appeal to inappropriate authority.
There are two ways an appeal to authority can be inappropriate:
(1)
the authority can be irrelevant, or
(2)
the authority can be biased.
If an authority is irrelevant, he or she is just not in any position to speak on the claim being
evaluated. If an authority is biased, he or she pretends (knowingly or unknowingly) to be in a
position of authority on the subject.
If your math teacher drones on and on about the deplorable character development in
Jane Austen novels, it might be wise to take his opinions with a grain of salt. On the face of it, he
is an irrelevant authority. Who cares what a mathematician has to say about literature? He might
be right, but you should look for independent evidence. On the other hand, if you also learn that
one of his long-time hobbies is 19th century literature, you may take his claims a little more
seriously. In this case, he is a relevant authority.
If a representative from the National Rifle Association (NRA) tells you that it is your
Constitutional right to own whatever gun you want, you should look for some independent
evidence. Since the NRA is devoted to the promotion of firearm ownership, they are a potentially
biased authority. This does not mean they are wrong, it just means that they have a vested
interest in promoting certain claims. This vested interest can bias their testimony, that is, it could
lead them to exaggerate the truth or mislead you about a claim. This is tricky because it is not
always the case. For example, the Environmental Protection Agency has a vested interest in
promoting certain claims about the environment. However, it is better for them to be unbiased if
they want to keep getting funding.
Consider a more difficult case. What if a publication called The Journal of New
Testament Studies publishes an article on Jesus of Nazareth? Whether it is an appropriate
authority depends on what else you know about the journal. If it is a journal that publishes based
on “blind reviews” (the reviewer does not know the author’s name) and its editorial board is
made up of well-respected scholars who study the New Testament, then it might be a reliable
source. On the other hand, if all the editing scholars are known to have a certain take on the New
Testament (say, that Jesus didn’t exist), or that they only publish scholars who agree with them,
the journal is less reliable—it is not an appropriate authority.
Jamie once saw a magazine ad with John Travolta wearing a Breitling watch. He
immediately wondered: Why should this make me want to buy a Breitling watch? He decided
there were two possible reasons, both fallacious. First, the ad might have been trying to convince
Jamie that he should “be like Travolta,” join an elite club of celebrities who wear Breitling. This
would not be an appeal to inappropriate authority, but another fallacy, called appeal to snobbery.
Second, the ad might have been trying to convince Jamie that Travolta, being rich and
famous, and having access to the finer things in life, has some insight into which things count as
“finer,” or at least as “fine timepieces.” We are supposed to assume, implicitly, that Travolta is a
connoisseur of fine watches (or at least fine things) and therefore, recommends Bretiling. But,
John Travolta is an actor and a pilot. Acting and flying are his realms of authority. If Travolta
recommended an airplane, then fine; he’s an authority. But a watch? Hardly. It’s like Whoopi
Goldberg telling me to vote for Barak Obama, or the Red Hot Chili Peppers telling me to Rock
the Vote! Who are these people to tell me anything outside of their realm of expertise?
Here are four more appeals to inappropriate authority:
EXAMPLES:
a. Actor Paul Newman says: “Save the environment. Buy organic products.”
b. “The president of Ford Motor Company recently said that American cars are built better than any of their
Japanese competitors.”
c. “The Journal of Paranormal Research says that 75% of people experience psychic phenomena on a daily
basis.”
d. The Sun (tabloid) newspaper prints: “Monkey-boy is his own father!”
5. Slippery Slope
In a slippery slope fallacy, an arguer inappropriately concludes that a series of
unfortunate or undesirable consequences would follow if some claim, p, were true, therefore, p
must be false. In South Park season 1, someone suggests that the Terrance and Phillip show is
corrupting the minds of the children of South Park (“Death”). In response, Kyle’s mom, Mrs.
Broflovski starts a protest: “Not allowing our kids to watch the show is not enough. We need to
boycott the entire network. … These boys’ minds have been tainted by the garbage on television
that they see and we are fed up!” The implication seems to be that what is on television will lead
to negative consequences for kids and then society. Rob has written that Mrs. Broflovski’s worry
could be formulated as follows:
If we allow a show like The Terrance and Phillip Show on the air, then it’ll corrupt my kid, then
it’ll corrupt your kid, then it’ll corrupt all our kids, then shows like this will crop up all over the
TV, then more and more kids will be corrupted, then all of TV will be corrupted, then the corrupt
TV producers will corrupt other areas of our life, etc., etc., etc. So, we must take The Terrance and
Phillip Show off the air; otherwise, it will lead to all these other corruptions!!! (2006: 58).
The problem with this sort of argument is that it is not at all clear that all these negative
consequences will follow from leaving The Terrance and Phillip Show on the air. In order to
have a cogent argument, the arguer must give reasons for each particular consequence. To be
sure, there is psychological evidence that continued exposure to violence tends to produce in
children a more violent disposition. This means there might be some evidence that bad
programming could have negative effects on children. But the further implications that shows
like this will flourish until more and more kids are corrupted and other aspects of our lives are
corrupted are unwarranted. Note: if all the causal connections between the p and the
consequences identified in the argument can be established with good reasons, the argument does
not commit the slippery slope fallacy.
Here are four more examples of the slippery slope fallacy:
EXAMPLES:
a. “The CEO’s proposal will frustrate middle management, who will then take it out on the factory
workers. When the factory workers are angry enough, they will go on strike and sink the whole
company. Surely, we should not accept the proposal.”
b. “If we permit gay marriage, what is to prevent brothers from marrying sisters, or adults from
marrying children, or, heaven forbid, a man from marrying his sheep?”
c. “Censorship is immoral. If we censor 2LiveCrew, we have to censor anything the public finds
distasteful. Pretty soon we will be burning books and putting people in jail as instigators. This is a
fast track to fascism!” (Students may need some cultural background to fully understand this one.)
d. “Religious belief is dangerous. First you’re asked to believe an ancient text that we really don’t know who
wrote, on this basis you’re asked to believe the interpretation of this text by someone who has been ‘gifted by
God’ to do so, this leads you to give up your belief in the basic rationality of science and logic! Pretty soon
you only believe a very narrow set of implausible claims. The more people become religious, the less rational
society will be. Therefore, it is better not to be religious.”
6. The Naturalistic Fallacy (inferring an “ought” claim from an “is” claim)
Recall that moral claims are normative, that is, they prescribe some action (e.g., you
shouldn’t steal, no one should lie to their mothers out of selfishness). Normal claims, on the
other hand, are descriptive; they describe reality (e.g., the cat is on the mat, New York is north of
Charlotte, etc.). Where does the normative force of a moral claim come from? Most philosophers
agree that, wherever it comes from, we cannot infer normative claims (“ought” claims) from
descriptive claims (“is” claims). To do so is to commit what is known as the naturalistic
fallacy.
For instance, you may know that plants need water to survive. This is a descriptive claim.
But this claim tells us nothing about whether anyone should water the plant. The claim, “You
should water the plant,” does not follow from, “The plant needs water to survive.” It is true that,
if you want the plant to survive, then you have a normative reason to water the plant—you ought
to water the plant. But even this sort of normativity (based on what you want) does not establish
a moral obligation to water the plant. Rob may want to his daughter to grow up to be beautiful,
and it may be a fact that if he gets her plastic surgery she will, but that does not mean he is under
a moral obligation to get her plastic surgery. In fact, she will probably grow up to be beautiful
even if Rob doesn’t do something he knows will guarantee her beauty.
Not everyone agrees that it is irrational to derive an ought claim from an is claim. For
example, some philosophers argue that the truth of the claim, “X causes pain,” constitutes at least
a prima facie reason to believe it is wrong to do X, even though “X causes pain” is a descriptive
claim. But things here are not so tidy. These philosophers believe that increasing pain is
essentially immoral. This means that, even though “X causes pain” is descriptive, since pain has
moral implications, we have moral reasons not to do X. But on what grounds could you establish
that increasing pain is immoral? Surely not on descriptive claims like, “brain state x is a pain
state,” or “smashing toes causes pain,” or “I don’t like pain.” It seems plausible that we still need
some moral claim to establish that pain is immoral. To be sure, this problem raises heated
debates about where moral normativity comes from. Nevertheless, we feel it is safe to assume it
does not derive from descriptive claims.
Here are four more examples of the naturalistic fallacy:
EXAMPLES:
a. “Bodies naturally break down over time, so exercise is just a struggle against nature. Therefore,
you shouldn’t exercise.”
b. “It’s very natural for a child to lash out at her brother and hit him once in a while. You should just
let her.”
c. “Animals eat each other, therefore, how could it be wrong for me to eat animals?”
d. Homosexuality is a genetic predisposition, even if it cannot be linked to one specific gene. If
homosexuals cannot choose whether to be homosexual, it cannot be immoral.